Candy and the Casting Couch pt. 1

Candy consulted her phone to see if she had the right address. She stood in front of the glass double doors of an innocuous business in the middle of a strip mall with little more than the address number signaling that this was it. She checked her reflection. She’d straightened her long dark hair and parted it in the middle, hoping to evoke a bit of Cher in her youth and the unbridled abandon of the Summer of Love. Her thighs stuck together under a tight jersey sundress, sweat collecting in the humid Florida heat. Candy dabbed her face.

“Excuse me, miss. Can I help you?”

Candy looked up, startled. The question had come from the intercom system. She blushed, having been caught.

“I’m Candy, I spoke to, uh-,” Candy searched her phone, suddenly scattered, “Jody, from TLP casting, and she told me to come by at 3:30, so now.”

“Come on in!”

A buzzer sounded and Candy grabbed the door, hurrying in. She hadn’t realized how sweaty she was until a cold blast of AC hit her. She felt goosebumps rising across her body. Her nipples pressed against the thin cotton of her dress, which in this context, wasn’t the worst thing.

A security guard in the lobby waved her over.

“Can I see your ID?” he asked.

“Sure,” Candy replied, grabbing her license from her purse.

“Thank you, miss. TLP is on the third floor, room 303. Just take the elevator up and make a left.”

“Thanks!”

Candy could hardly breathe as she stepped into the elevator. Her heart pounded in her chest. It was finally happening. It almost didn’t feel real. When she’d responded to the ad a month ago, she hadn’t expected to actually make the trip. It was a passing fantasy. There was no way the offer was real, and even if it was, there was no way it would be exactly as they’d promised. The ad was for people interested in getting into the “adult entertainment industry,” which Candy assumed meant porn, and the company was offering an all-expenses-paid trip to Miami with accommodations at the Hilton, and a paycheck of $10k for first-time performers. Candy had applied one night after drinking half a bottle of wine. She sent over two pictures of herself in a bikini and one close up headshot, and put it out of her mind. But less than a week later, Two Lip Productions had replied in detail, confirming the booking. They emailed over the plane tickets and hotel reservation, and once Candy had landed, they sent a car to take her to the Hilton. And it wasn’t just any Hilton, it was a beachfront resort with amenities. They set her up in a room with a balcony view out to the water so lovely, she had to call her friends to brag. Jody texted Candy wishing her luck, and to remind her that she needed to be downstairs and ready to be picked up at 3p for the shoot. And now, here she was: moments away from her first and perhaps only scene ever.

Candy had always loved porn. She loved watching it, sharing it with her lovers, diving deep into the esoteric depths of her favorite sites, even paying her crushes to record themselves saying her name when they came. She loved high budget productions with recognizable stars and amateur videos shot by lovers at home in dim lighting. But her favorite porn was something in between. She loved so-called “casting couch” auditions. There was something about the unpredictability: the mix of naivete and knowing expectation, the power exchange and potential for unanticipated pleasure or disappointment that tickled a part of her erotic psyche in a way that nothing else could. She knew it wasn’t the most acceptable genre for a woman to enjoy, and perhaps that was why it was so tantalizing.

Candy walked down the carpeted corridor and found the door to room 303 was already ajar. Inside, two men were talking loudly. As they do, Candy thought. One barked out a laugh as Candy entered, gripping his gut with hairy, mit-like hands.

“You’re too much, Spencer! You’re gonna give me an aneurysm one day,” he said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Not now, Jeff. It looks like our star has arrived,” Spencer said, nodding at Candy.

“Well, look at you!” Jeff gave Candy a once over, as he offered her his hand.

“Let’s not forget our manners,” Spencer said, grabbing a stack of papers from an innocuous black desk, “I’m Spencer, and this is Jeff. We’re the knuckleheads who will be in charge of the production today. That is, provided you consent and sign this annoyingly long, boring contract I have here.”

“‘Candy’ is what you’re going by?” Jeff asked.

“Yep, that’s right.”

“Cute name.”

He opened a thick binder to a bookmarked page collaged with the images she’d sent over in her application, along with her stats: height, weight, hair color, age, bra size, etc, and some other information she couldn’t read. At the top of the page, the words “FIRST TIMER” were scrawled in messy all caps with stars on either side.

“If I remember correctly, we have you staying at the Hilton. Is that right, sweetheart?” Spencer asked.

“That’s right.”

“How’re you liking that view?”

“It’s beautiful.”

“So beautiful, right? We like to make sure our models get the best experience, especially our first timers. Porn gets a bad rep for being seedy and full of creepy old guys or jerks, but we want to show that there’s another side to it. We want polished young ladies, like yourself, to enjoy what they do so much that they want to do it again and again.”

Spencer winked at her for emphasis, then tapped on the stack of papers, “And to make sure everything we do here is completely consensual and kosher, we have y’all fill out this contract. I’ll walk you through it as quickly as I can, but it does take a little while. I’ve put sticky notes on the pages where we need you to sign. In the meantime, Jeff is going to work on making sure we have our sound and lighting set here. Oh! And just to double check, you got your PCR tests back and everything was negative?”

“Yeah, I thought I emailed it to you. Did it not go through?”

“We probably got it. Don’t worry, I just had to ask.” Spencer pat Candy on the shoulder, “And just so you know, we both get tested weekly and we keep our paperwork on hand for y’all, so if you ever want to see it for peace of mind, we can bring it out for you.”

Candy paused for a moment, putting everything together. They were going to shoot right here, right on the black leather couch she was sitting on, in this office building, and she was going to be fucking them. Candy appraised Jeff as he fluttered around the room, setting up LED panel lights and a ring light. He was a White man, probably fifty-years-old, with a bald head, and yet with ample hair everywhere else. He wore a polo shirt tucked under a protruding gut, into a pair of khaki shorts that revealed yet more fur from the knees down. Across from her, Spencer ran through the document with a pair of glasses that seemed to slip further and further down his nose. Candy thought he looked Korean, but she wasn’t sure. Candy guessed he was in his early forties. He wore a Hawaiian shirt + cargo shorts that gave off strong wasting away in Margaritaville energy. The men weren’t Candy’s type by any stretch, but she was open to it. Candy was no stranger to fucking older men for money. Sometimes it was even better than fucking the younger ones, because the old guys could afford to treat her well, and they were much more likely to be devoted givers. They ate pussy like their lives depended on it, and savored the taste as if it were their last meal on Earth. Candy observed them with cat-like intrigue. Would they be able to impress her?

“This is the list of shots we like to get, and again, if you have any questions, I can explain them to you. Of course, we would love to do everything on the list, but it’s your first time, and we understand how scary this kind of thing can be. If something on the list is a “no” for you, we will cross it out and you won’t have to worry about it, and don’t worry, we’ll have you fill out this form for every scene so if what you feel comfortable with changes as you get more experience, we can all agree together to expand your repertoire.”

Candy stifled a snicker at the phrase “expand your repertoire”. It was a joke to refer to adding squirting or double anal penetration as expanding her “repertoire”. Candy signed next to the basic options: oral, doggy, the variety of girl-on-top positions, on-the-face cum shot - nothing too exciting, but more than just a solo masturbation scene. Spencer checked over the list.

“I see we’re not okay with anal, that’s fine, but are you okay with being rimmed or having your anus played with?”

“Yeah, those are fine.”

“Great. And now for the boring legal part.”

Two Lips Productions would have rights to her image and likeness in perpetuity, purchased for the one-time lump sum of $10,000. The video would be theirs forever, come hell, high water, or CNN interviews like the ones Mia Khalifa did in an attempt to have her videos taken down. Candy knew it was a predatory practice these companies did, making performers sign away their rights to everything from residuals to future usage across porn platforms and beyond. But Candy didn’t care. She wanted the money, and she didn’t care if her pussy made its way around the world a million times. She didn’t even care if every member of her high school graduating class watched it. What she did with her body was her choice, and frankly, nobody else’s business.

Still, while Spencer walked away to help Jeff operate the camera, she scratched out a few words for good measure. She crossed out every instance of “in-perpetuity” she could find and anything that sounded like it might bind her to arbitration in the case of a legal battle. When she made it to the final page, she signed her long legal name with a flourish and stood, handing the bundle back to Spencer.

“All done,” she announced.

“Excellent! Do you mind if we start recording now?”

“Let’s do it!”

Jeff hurried out of the frame and Spencer hit record. Candy watched the little red light blink, indicating they had begun.

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Candy.”

“Because she’s sweet like candy! Bet she tastes just like candy too,” Jeff said, cutting in.

“And how old are you?”

“Twenty-two.”

“Have you ever been in a porno before?”

“This is my first time.”

“We love that,” Spencer gushed, practically salivating, “Are you nervous?”

“Not really.”

“Do you consent to being here and getting fucked for the first time on camera?”

“I do.”

“Excellent. Are you excited?”

“I am.”

“What are you excited about? Are you excited to get fucked?”

“I’m excited to get fucked.”

“What’s your favorite position?”

Candy thought for a moment.

“Doggy style.”

It was a strategic reply. She didn’t prefer doggy style, but it was a relatively low-impact position. She wouldn’t have to work especially hard for a doggy shot. She could sit back and allow the penetration to happen. Plus, she felt it was a flattering position.

“We love doggy,” Jeff interjected.

“Would you mind pulling up your dress to show us that beautiful ass, honey?”

Candy stood and faced away from the camera. She pulled her dress up and bent over, revealing a little pink g-string that clung to her plump lips.

“Gorgeous,”

Spencer moved in close with the camera.